


Nimrandir

by Varaen



Series: Fills for LLA 2016 [12]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elves, GFY, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:10:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varaen/pseuds/Varaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She walks the shores of Middle-Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nimrandir

**Author's Note:**

> For the 27.04. prompt: The Numinous  
> Nimrandir is Sindarin for white wanderer.

There are shrines along the coast of Belegaer, never more than a day’s travel on foot apart. Some of them are nothing more than a carved pillar of white stone, inscribed with invocations to the gentle sea, praise for its bounty and evocations of Uinen and her sisters. Others are small buildings, shelter from the storm and sanctuaries from the world. All of them are composed of the same white stone that seems to shine from within by daylight, and glimmers silver in the moonlight, as pristine as they were the day they were assembled.

From time to time, a woman in white could be seen, wandering from shrine to shrine. She scraped off the encroaching moss, repaired small cracks, replaced crumbling stones and maintained the sleeping furs and fire pits that cozied up the larger shelters, along with supplies of salted fish and firewood to tide over the desperate and lost.

Ciriel took great pride in her service. She lived by the sea and through the grace of the sea, wandering north in spring and back south in autumn in an eternal cycle. Unlike most other nomadic elves, she walked alone, needing no company but the sea and its ladies. She was convinced that it made her more receptive to the wisdom of the waves.

It is said that the cries of the drowned can be heard on the shore, carried by the wind. Mortals tell horror stories of the wailing ghosts of the Men who drowned with Akallabêth, and the lost spirits of the dead of Beleriand. Farther back reach the whispers of elves who died during the crossing of Helcaraxë and haunt the ice-storms to this day, luring their kin to their watery death. Only mortals could spin a scary story like that from the sea-longing that was salvation and sorrow entwined, but always more comforting than terrible.

Neither did Ciriel understand how or when her hymns or Maglor’s lamentations turned into howling spirits, but she was indifferent to the fickle imaginations of mortal minds. She was but a custodian of the shore beacons, tending to the remnants of her faith.

**Author's Note:**

> Ciriel is a name that can be both Sindarin and Quenya and that can hold a multitude of different meanings. Both Ciriel and I are quite content with that level of ambiguity.


End file.
